


Turn to real

by Shaish



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Drabble brought on by this fanart: http://shaish.tumblr.com/post/102085833686/yummyman</p>
    </blockquote>





	Turn to real

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble brought on by this fanart: http://shaish.tumblr.com/post/102085833686/yummyman

He's smaller than he was the last time you saw him, barely breathing on a shore, a slip if a thing now as opposed to the two inches taller he was and the bit wider, physical power traded for physical sickness.

It's familiar, niggles at a part of your mind you weren't aware of until now

"Bucky," Steve Rogers says, and his voice is still the same, deep and calm, "Bucky," he repeats, like he’s trying not to scare off a wild animal (he's not wrong), and his eyes are a soft blue like before he fell off of the helicarrier.

"Steve," slips out, because you've been noticed and you could run, could slip away far easier now that he can no longer really give chase, leather of your uniform quickly warming in the sun, light glinting sharp off of metal. And you let him walk up to you, a ghost for a ghost that slips past your defenses, just like you now understand you did his.

He stops a few feet away, a foot shorter and over a hundred pounds lighter, bones like a bird's but strong like iron slowly reaching up, fingertips soft and a light brush like feathers across the side if your face. Your eyes slip closed.

" _Buck_ ," Steve whispers, breath warm like you haven't been in years a soft hush over your lips.

They part slightly and you open your eyes.

Steve Rogers is standing in front of you, taller by two inches and wider than you, no longer a slip of a thing, fingertips that could crush your skull still feathers on your rough, stubbled skin. His eyes are a soft blue and his voice is the same after time and distance and ice.

"Buck."

You reach your own hands up, both just to make sure, and touch his cheeks, make him real.

He smiles, soft and warm, and for the third time in over seventy years, you feel it too.

"Steve."


End file.
